Defender of Rome by Douglas Jackson Read Free Book Online Page A

neck. But the killing rage was gone. With a grunt of effort, he lifted the shield from the Spaniard’s throat.
    ‘Die in your own time.’

VI
    VALERIUS FOUND TWO men waiting in the atrium when he returned home after a frustrating day at the courts, and he glared his annoyance at Tiberius, the steward who had invited them in. His body still ached from his bruising encounter with Serpentius and his temper wasn’t helped by the fact that the smaller of the two men, a greasy, overweight youth who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, addressed him as if he were the owner of the house and Valerius a none too welcome guest.
    ‘You are Gaius Valerius Verrens, former tribune of the Twentieth legion?’ he demanded in a high-pitched, petulant voice.
    ‘Gaius Valerius Verrens, holder of the Gold Crown of Valour,’ Valerius corrected, winning a smirk from the taller of the two, whose broad shoulders and quiet alertness marked him as a bodyguard, as did his face, which had collided with solid objects more often than was good for it. ‘And who might you be?’
    The plump youth fumbled beneath his cloak. ‘Claudius Helvius Collina,’ he announced, brandishing the gold ring bearing his seal of office like a betting ticket. ‘Imperial messenger.’
    Valerius reached for the ring and noticed the big man tense. He didn’t have any doubt it was genuine, but it didn’t do to make life easy for pipsqueaks with ideas above their station. The messenger snatched it away, but Valerius insisted and eventually Collina handed it over, although he maintained his grip on the chain.
    When he was satisfied, Valerius gave the ring back. ‘Very well. What message do you have for me?’
    ‘You are to attend the gatehouse at the Clivus Victoriae tomorrow at the second hour.’
    ‘I don’t want to hear it, I want to read it.’ He held out his hand.
    ‘The message is to be relayed orally. This man is here to confirm that it has been done and the wording is correct.’
    For a moment Valerius felt like someone who hears a rumbling in the distance and knows it is an avalanche, but finds he can’t move his feet to get out of the way. A summons was bad enough, but one without written confirmation hinted at trickery, or worse. This was no invitation to a reception or one of the Emperor’s recitals. He considered his options and quickly decided he didn’t have any.
    When the two men had left, a kitchen slave asked when Valerius would want his evening meal, but he discovered he wasn’t hungry. He knew he should go to Olivia, but he felt as if he were sitting on a volcano and if the volcano erupted it would consume Olivia just as it would consume him. He needed time to think. Who knew everything that went on in Rome from the Palatine to the prison cells below the Castra Praetoria? A silken voice whispered inside his head and he had a vision of a beautiful face.
    Fabia.
    How much should she say? Fabia Faustina handed Valerius a gilded cup and lay back on her couch. When the servant had arrived asking for an appointment her heart had lurched like a fourteen-year-old virgin’s. What was it about the young soldier that made her feel this way? Yes, he was handsome, with the determined features of a young Caesar. And he had the hardened physique that only military service or manual labour gave a man. But many of her clients were handsome men with fine bodies. The missing arm didn’t disgust her, quite the opposite, but neither did it account for this unlikely infatuation. He was brave and honest, but these were not attributes she necessarily found attractive. Not his courage nor his looks, then. It was something inside ; the melancholy he tried to hide behind his eyes. So many of the men who came to this house sought her love, but had to make do with her body. Of them all, only Valerius would never be able to love her in return, and that was a challenge she could not resist.
    But now? How much should she say? What should she tell him? And, more